Trading Treats
by GratefulInsomniac
Summary: House goes trick-or-treating at Cuddy's.


_A/N-Hey all. I had a chapter ready for 'Charades' and realized that I didn't like how it came out. I started to write something different, but it's not ready yet. I decided to post a little Halloween one-shot instead (because I really love Halloween). I hope you enjoy this, and hopefully I'll have the next installment of the other story ready for next week. Work and life are beyond intense, so writing time is sparse as of late. Apologies for the wait._

_Don't own the characters. This story includes adult content._

_Season 3/4 timeline._

* * *

House's mood was beyond dour. The case had seemed so simple when he unwillingly took the file two weeks earlier. Initially, he took the case because he thought it would make a decent negotiating tool with Cuddy. His perceived position of power quickly disappeared when the patient slipped into a coma and her condition continually worsened. It seemed that no matter what the team did, the patient did not improve.

All of his fellows had been sent out to run tests or search the patient's home while House sought some sort of inspiration that would lead him in the right direction. He scowled angrily when Cuddy came into his office, worrying about some sort of administrative technicality that seemed a pointless distraction as far as he was concerned. She was talking for quite some time, although he ignored her until her words cut through the haze.

"House, it's not enough to make it _look_ like you took the time to get your patient's consent. You actually have to get it, complete the proper forms and turn them in. This isn't just to make me happy or prevent lawsuits. Patients deserve to know the risks and potential benefits so they can make informed decisions. Now you have to start all over again from square one because the consent you have is completely useless. Your game took everyone down the wrong path and-"

"You're right."

"I am. And maybe you'll start to accept the usefulness of-"

"Not that," he interrupted, standing up and hurrying past her.

A few days later, he walked into her office, his demeanor completely different than it had been. He was smug, confident and proud, basking in the glow of his steadily improving patient. "It's amazing how patients respond so much better when you treat them for diseases they actually have," he announced before he realized that Cuddy wasn't in her office. "Cuddy?" he asked as he looked around, finally limping behind her desk.

She came out of the bathroom, clasping an earring, already changed into more casual attire. "You can repay me for cracking your case by using honesty with your patients instead of head games and subterfuge."

"You're not actually going to try to take credit for my diagnostic leap of genius?"

"I definitely provided the spark that led to the leap."

Examining her attire, he asked, "Where are you going?"

"Out with a friend."

"You didn't go home to change? What's the rush?"

"It was just easier to change here."

"How…flirty-trying-to-look-casual."

"It's not trying-to-look-casual. It's just casual."

"So you didn't spend hours trying to figure out how to look as hot as humanly possible while trying to make it look like you weren't trying to look hot?"

With a confident expression, she answered, "You're going to have to accept the fact that I'm just this hot naturally. And thank you."

"For what?"

"For complimenting me inadvertently."

"I didn't."

"You think I look hot. You said it, no point in denying it."

"You're twisting my words."

"And the more you protest, the more genuine the compliment seems."

"So who's the date?"

"What part of 'out with a friend' don't you understand?"

"You know what 'friend' means, right?"

"Someone you feel close to and enjoy spending time with for reasons other than romance?"

"That's a girl definition. Are you going out with a female?"

"It's a guy friend. He needed to bring a date to a party. I'm…filling in."

"The guy definition of 'friend' is a woman you want to see without clothing and without a commitment. Sex without guilt or obligation."

"I like sex without guilt or obligation. But…it isn't like that. I'm going to a Halloween party with Wilson. His date bailed."

"Are you guys dressing in some…couple's costumes? The choice of costume is very important, but I'm guessing you and Wilson would pick something really lame. Salt and pepper? The world's most boring version of Bonnie and Clyde? Guard and prisoner…my god, is this a BYOS party?"

She thought for a few seconds about whether or not she wanted to know until curiosity won, "Against my better judgment, I'll ask. Bring your own…?"

"Shackles."

"There will be no shackles. Or costumes. It's a wine and fine food sort of deal. It's for grownups."

"No matter what you think, Wilson still is a guy. You think that because he goes to parties that involve wine and polite conversation instead of beer and costumes that he doesn't want the same thing that other guys want?"

"Including you?"

"I just want you to know what his intentions are. If anything, I'm your true friend here."

"Which means that you're seeking guiltless and obligation-free sex with me in a _truer _way than Wilson?"

"Theoretically, sure. Realistically…not so much."

"That's a lie," she answered, moving closer.

"You think you have me all figured out?"

"I think I actually do. You're terrified of me _because_ you like me."

"I am not terrified of you," he said while his eyes seemed drawn between her playfully taunting eyes, the sexy smirk on her lips and her cleavage. "I laugh in the face of your attempt to terrify. I'm just not interested."

"OK."

"I'm not."

"Relax. I'm not arguing with you."

"I'm perfectly relaxed," he retorted while he watched her hand move to his shirt and begin to straighten the rumpled fabric. "I am," he countered with unnecessary ardor, but he seemed visibly uncertain of how to react to her hand on his shirt.

"I'm still not arguing with you," she answered with well-deserved cockiness.

Her confidence irritated the hell out of him. She stepped back, ending their standoff as if it had never happened, so he grabbed her by the elbows and pulled her back to him, lifting her slightly so he could easily kiss her. He could be just as confident.

She pulled her head back almost instantly, the self-assured expression gone from her face and replaced by a very angry one. He braced himself for the slap that he was certain she was about to deliver. But she didn't slap him. She kissed him back. The kiss wasn't gentle or sweet but perfectly demonstrated her frustration.

He was stunned by the nature of her response, but his confusion didn't cause him any hesitation. Her frustration felt as good as her feminine form pressed against him. She didn't waste time. Somehow emboldened by the moment, she slid her mouth against his and melted closer when she felt his tongue part her lips. With each passing moment, frustration blended with attraction as the opposing forces of push and pull created a beautiful antagonism that made crossing that forbidden line so much more exciting.

For a flickering moment, she felt tempted to point out to him that he was _so un-_attracted to her that he was pulling her shirt off. There seemed little point in highlighting _his_ interest when she realized that _she_ had somehow removed his shirt, and that it was clenched in her fist. Before the thought was even fully formulated, she tossed it, and the shirt, to the side. She started to lose track of how quickly everything was happening as her head buzzed with the arousal that was mirrored by her physiological response. They could lie to each other, they could lie to themselves, but the automatic and eager responses of their bodies screamed a certain truth that drowned out the lies.

She didn't even break contact as she stepped toward her door, reaching behind her back until she found the lock and latched it. The insanity escalated as they continued. She could hear her own voice in her head, questioning whether or not this was actually happening, but her thoughts distracted her from the mechanics of how they were getting from point A to point B as she realized they were already well on their way there. The cold air smacked her back in the places where his hands didn't cover, and she knew she was no longer thinking when she felt her fingers pop open the button on his jeans before she shoved her hand into his boxers.

Her palm pressed flat against his sex while his zipper opened from the movement of her hand. His skin was hot and smooth over the demanding, thick rigidity of his erection. He thought her fingers felt chilly until they were warmed by him, and he inhaled a hitched breath at the sensation of her cooler skin against his. He took the opportunity, embraced the move that seemed possible for him because of her actions, and plucked open the button on her jeans as well. They were skin tight as he tried to fit his large hand into the small space available. Leaning lower to yank her jeans partway down her thighs, he tried to gain access to her again, and found that any impediment whatsoever between him and what he wanted was entirely unwelcome. The jeans had to go.

He propped one hand on the furniture, dropping his body onto the floor before he pulled her remaining clothing off without even a hint of patience or caution. His eyes followed the shape of her legs to the top until he was staring right at the naked juncture of her thighs. His gaze remained there until she smoothly slinked down in front of him. He could feel her knees slide along his sides while she lowered her body to his. They didn't even pause as they both reached for his cock because neither of them felt like waiting, and at that rare moment, they both wanted exactly the same thing at exactly the same time. She lowered her body completely onto his, gasping as she rested her forearms on his shoulders. His arms wrapped around her to hold her close. It was only then that they paused while her internal muscles relaxed enough to allow them to move.

It was her body that finally demanded the pause that neither of their wills could require. She leaned her forehead against his, her lips subtly parted, eyes closed until she felt the way his one thumb softly stroked her side while he remained otherwise still. They looked at each other in a deeply honest moment of acceptance while they both seemed to wordlessly confess that they wanted this. They wanted this enough to accept the risks associated with such an indulgence. Or perhaps they were too aroused to care about the risks in that moment.

This temporary pause in the frenzy lasted only for a few breaths before he leaned forward to kiss her again. The innocence of the kiss in the midst of so much lust and desire seemed oddly out of place and was quickly lost in the torrent of passion that swept over them again. His free hand found her breast, and he felt the full flesh is his palm, his forefinger and thumb pinching her tight nipple until her hips swiveled against him.

The tips of her fingernails barely scratched the base of his neck, a feeling that was instantly provoking and forbade the existence of any further pause. Before he could really respond, she started to move, lifting her body away before she slowly took him inside her again. He closed his eyes as he felt only the sensations of her and the way she moved against him. He felt the moist, silken grip of her enveloping sex, the smoothness her legs against his sides as she shifted, and the way her breasts smashed against his chest every time she came closer to him. His hands moved to her hips, surrounding them as he helped direct the motion of her to meet his need. She moved over him several times as he lifted toward her, but he felt urgent impatience swelling in him, and the only choices were to struggle or be swept away with the current.

Neither would willingly admit how many times they'd imagined a moment like this. Now that they'd caved, they were holding nothing back.

He rolled, using his momentum and size to flip her under him. She scratched a long line down his back as he sunk back into her, each of them softly vocalizing their pleasure. As quickly as everything had started, it was building to its almost inevitable conclusion. Neither of them could formulate a single coherent word, but each reacted to the signs of approval they found from the other, learning quickly to respond to their partner's needs. Her orgasm started before his as she tried to stifle the pleasured moans that continued to escape her lips with each thrust until he finally joined her.

He settled over her, unable to move away, while he heard the tiniest little gasp of post-orgasmic approval that she allowed as she relaxed into the floor under the weight of him. They hadn't muttered a single intelligible word since the first kiss, but plenty had been communicated. He was still and quiet long enough to make her break the silence, "Everything OK?"

Lifting away slowly, he let her see a shadow of the grin that was usually so smug, replaced by something shyer and with almost a hint of affection behind it as he nodded. He started to respond until they heard a loud knock that made them instantly disentangle their limbs and sit up. "Dr. Cuddy?" Cameron called through the door. "Can I speak to you for a second?"

Cuddy bolted toward the bathroom, gathering her clothes as she passed by each article. House didn't immediately move to get dressed, watching her naked body before she disappeared. He couldn't help but take some pride in the hints of unsteadiness in her legs. But then again, he couldn't deny that she was responsible for the heavy-limbed feeling that made it difficult for him to get up off the floor. When she came back out, her face still flushed, she listened to Cameron call through the door again. "Just a second, Cameron, I'm in a meeting," Cuddy finally responded.

House was already fully dressed and seated in the chair in front of Cuddy's desk, looking just as disorganized and rumpled as he always did, as if nothing salacious had happened moments earlier. "Do I look OK?" Cuddy whispered to him before he raised an eyebrow of approval.

As Cuddy opened the door, Cameron immediately noticed House's presence in the office, and she seemed instantly uncomfortable. "I need your approval on this."

Cuddy looked at the form and answered, "This procedure has already been done, so it's a bit late to seek my approval."

"I didn't know."

"I'm sure House appreciates you trying to cover for him."

"I wasn't. I didn't know he already did this…I…" Cameron looked at House and then said, sheepishly, "I'm sorry I interrupted your meeting."

"It's no problem," Cuddy answered, as nonchalantly as she could.

"House, the family wants to talk to you."

"And people stranded in the Sahara are really hoping that oasis isn't a mirage," he answered.

"They have concerns that they really want to discuss with you," Cameron explained.

"They're upset that the treatment _worked_?"

"They're upset that the previous three treatments did not work."

"If the current one is working, who cares about the previous three. When you win the lottery, do you focus on the losing tickets you bought before? No. You buy a speedboat and quit your job."

"Please," Cameron pleaded, "they want to see you."

Cuddy caught his eye before he left and she offered, "I'll be here for a while, if you want to come back when you're done with the family."

* * *

Once House was finished with the patient, Cuddy was not there. He made himself comfortable on her sofa, hoping to irritate her a bit by the casual way he could impinge on her workspace. Irritating her seemed like the obvious way to open the next interaction they would have. His enjoyment of the moment faded into unhappiness when she didn't return after an hour. He realized as he waited there that she must have decided to keep her plans without so much as a goodbye. His mind automatically determined that she regretted what had happened between them.

As misery set in, he grumbled his way out of the hospital and to the nearest bar. He wondered if she actually went to dinner with Wilson or if that had been a lie. Desperately trying to disregard the fact that what had happened meant something to him, he convinced himself that it was a meaningless mistake. He tried to ignore her when she showed up at his door the next morning when he was hungover, but she was persistent.

He opened the door, blocking it with his body as much as he was able. "You look awful," she said immediately.

"So do you."

"Last night-"

"I don't want to talk about it," he answered quickly, "ever. We made a mistake, let's not relive the mistake by discussing it."

"That's how you feel?"

"Thanks for the quickie. It was fun while it lasted, but tonight I'm going for hypnosis in the hopes of forgetting it ever happened," before he shut the door.

He skipped work to deal with his hangover and avoiding dealing with her. Wilson showed up at House's apartment that night. The two friends were intent on watching a fight on TV and avoiding the kids who were out looking for candy and fun on Halloween. Right after he arrived, Wilson asked, "You know what's up with Cuddy?"

"I think she has a new helpless male slave chained up in her basement."

"Funny, I'd think that would put a smile on her face."

"Poor bastard."

"She's been weird since last night. Maybe she's just tense after that patient in the ER."

"She was in the ER with an actual patient?"

"Didn't you hear? A patient came in, high on meth. He stabbed a nurse with a hypodermic, punched the resident on duty and apparently attacked the patient in the room next to his. Cuddy was tied up with legal until dawn."

"Who'd you hear this from?" House asked skeptically.

"From Cuddy. She was supposed to go to this dinner with me since my date cancelled, but she couldn't leave in the middle of all of that."

There were two missed calls and a text from her early in the morning that he ignored while he drank because he didn't want to hear her excuses about why she decided to go out with someone else a few minutes after she had sex with him. He stood, uncertain about what he was going to do but certain that he was going to do something. "I have to go."

"Now? Where?"

"Trick-or-treating. You can stay and watch the fight, let me know what happens."

After looking for Cuddy at the hospital, House pulled up to the curb near her home. The streets were full of children dressed for the occasion. He was hoping that she would be handing out candy, but he didn't expect to see her sitting on her front step. He watched for a while as she commented on the children's costumes and dropped treats into their bags. As he approached, she looked cold but content with her duties. And then she saw him.

She wrapped her sweatshirt more tightly around her body and focused her eyes on an approaching group of children who ran around House to get to the door first. As Cuddy complimented a ladybug and a stormtrooper on their outfits, House fell in line behind them. "I can see why all of the kids are running for your door. No cheap-ass, fun-sized candy here."

He held out one of the plastic bags given to patients for their belongings and waited for her to put something in it.

"If I give you some, will you take it and move on to the next place?"

"Depends on what you mean by 'give you some.'"

"A candy bar," she answered, looking up at him and shaking her head while she tried to figure out his attire. "What are you supposed to be?"

"I didn't have a costume, so I had to improvise."

"And by 'improvise' you mean steal pieces of costumes from other people?"

"What's with the pessimism? I would say I developed a whole new character based on the discarded scraps others left behind."

She looked over the outfit before another group of children zipped past him for their candy and then sprinted to the next door.

"I like the cape," she told him.

"Dracula didn't need his."

"And the eye patch makes you look sort of rugged."

He lifted it and asked, "Would you believe I regenerated a pirate's missing eye? He gave this to me as payment."

She studied the object he held loosely in his hand next to his cane. "So you're a vampire-pirate with a floppy plastic sword?"

"As surprising as it may be, I had to come up with my costume kinda last minute," he said before he flung the toy sword into the bushes, "but I didn't think it was appropriate to get out my real saber in the presence of all of these children."

"Here," she held out two candy bars, "I'll give you extra. You can go and play with your saber as much as you want in the privacy of your own home."

"But I have something for you." House sat down on the step next to her. "I'll give it to you, but you have to ask according to the tradition."

"You want me to say please?"

"You've been listening to kids show up at your door for treats all night, and you don't know what to say on Halloween?"

Cuddy handed out a few more pieces of candy to visitors and then, with careful thought, answered, "I'm not sure if I want the trick or the treat. History has taught me that no matter what I do, I'll get the trick."

"So you missed your party."

"It was an interesting night in the ER."

"I didn't hear about it until my oncological consult this evening."

"I tried to call you."

"I ignored you. I thought you were calling about something else."

"Which makes the meaning behind the fact that you ignored me perfectly clear. I haven't bothered you about what happened. I didn't ask for anything, not even a veiled request for an explanation. You had an opportunity to get out of this as if it had never happened. So why are you here?"

"I wasn't trying to get out of anything. Well, not at first. I stopped by your office when I was done placating that annoying family. You weren't there…and I waited for you. So I assumed you went to the party. I wasn't interested in hearing the details about your date."

"I told you I was going with Wilson."

"I assumed that was a lie."

"Because I make it a habit of going on dates with a man after I just had sex with another man? Anyway, I didn't go to a party with Wilson or anyone else. I was knee deep in assaults, a very angry cop and worker's comp claims. There was no party. No date."

"That, and the fact that I may have reacted poorly to your visit to my apartment the next morning, is why I was originally going to dress like a gigantic asshole instead of a swarthy vampire-pirate. But I thought that might be inappropriate for the kids as well."

Cuddy complimented twins in matching hedgehog costumes and then looked at her watch, "Only a few minutes left to collect goodies. You might want to hit a few more doorsteps before time is up."

"I told you…I have something for you. Say the magic words and reach into my bag."

"I'm done playing tonight."

"Come on…just say it."

She thought about sending him home, but with the pirate eye patch and cape that was far too short for him, he was hard to easily disregard, "Trick or treat?" she mumbled, obligatorily.

He reached into the bag and removed the contents.

"That's my favorite," she answered without taking the candy in his hand.

"I know that."

House slipped the treat into the pocket of her sweatshirt and sat back comfortably on her stoop. Cuddy checked her watch and said, "Time's up."

"What about me? I'm the one who came to your door, you can't let me leave empty handed."

"You had your chance," Cuddy replied as she stood, opening her door and stepping inside. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"You owe me. I was here on time, you didn't deliver. If the trick-or-treat committee hears how you've blatantly disregarded rules and conventions, you'll be censured."

"The committee?"

"The most powerful secret organization in the world."

"Oh _them_. Well, they have strict rules about giving out candy after eight. I can't help you."

"But I was here before eight. And who said I want candy?"

"You treated me like crap after the last time, and you think I'm going to invite you in for sex?"

"I meant a drink. There aren't any rules about giving drinks to an adult of legal age after eight, are there?"

"There may not be official rules about it, but there is such a thing as learning my lesson," she started to protest until he leaned closer.

"I thought you left to go on a date with someone else a few minutes after we…traded treats. Until earlier today, I was pretty sure _you_ were the one who was supposed to dress like an asshole."

"If you're trying to use flattery to get a drink out of me…"

"Not flattery…truth. Let me in."

She stepped back, almost like she couldn't refuse, and he entered her home. She stood her ground in the foyer, but he moved directly in front of her, leaving little space between them. They both had room to step away, but neither relented. "What do you want to drink?" she asked.

His eyes met hers in a playful way, but the pleading quality was not lost. He responded, "First thing's first. You owe me. Trick or treat?"

She considered her response before she reached up, pressing her lips against his cheek without otherwise touching him. After a second, her feet were flat on the ground again and she answered, as casually as possible, "There. Now what do you want to drink?"

"I don't want the kid-sized treat. I want the full-sized one."

She scoffed and looked away, and he noticed everything slipping away too quickly. As he saw her putting protective walls up around her, he realized that the next time, it wouldn't be so easy for them to come so close. He doubted there would be a next time at all.

"I didn't have the time to properly demonstrate my admiration the other day in your office," he explained. "That was the very abridged, time-crunch version of my admiration."

"Admiration? You're willing to admit that you have _admiration_ for me? I guess that's something."

"I do have admiration. Ample amounts of it."

"Thank you."

"Thank you? Seriously, that's all I get?"

"What are you looking for?"

He fumbled for words, but then his expression became stoic and he answered, "Forget it."

Before he could walk away, she grabbed his arm, "You're giving up already?"

"You wanted to make me squirm. Fine, I squirmed. I'm not going to beg. See you at the hospital."

Moving between him and the door, she countered, "You like to try to make me squirm all of the time. It's your hobby. Don't dish it out if you can't take it."

"This is different."

"How?" she blurted.

"This isn't about the hospital or patients. This is about something personal."

"Admiration is something you can have for a painting or the quality of someone's work."

"You know that's not what I meant," he said as he stared through her. "Goodnight."

"I admire you too," she said hurriedly before he could go. "I…have always admired you."

"You admire me in the way you admire the quality of someone's work or a painting?"

"No. I meant it in the same way you meant it."

"So you like me?" he challenged.

"Is that how you meant it?"

He weighed his options. In his response, he felt that was already implied, but implying and saying were two different things. He often used the gap between implication and clearly stated fact to his advantage. Cuddy knew that. He knew that she knew that. "Is that how you think I meant it?"

She sighed, considering the same sorts of things he was considering. "Fine," she answered, knowing the inferences he could make from her reply. "Yea, I think that's how you meant it."

"Good."

A vacuum of silence and hesitation surrounded them, neither feeling certain enough to make a significant move. Cuddy took a miniscule step forward, and House answered in-kind. Their eyes met and each moved closer as if drawn together by the faintest magnetic pull. It was so different than what had happened a day earlier, because they could no longer argue that the situation was unexpected or a reaction they'd had in a fleeting moment. They'd had time to think.

Cuddy separated from him and took a few steps to the door. While she looked at him, she turned out the porch light.

"Does this mean I get the full-sized treat?" he asked with tentative hope.

"And while we're at it, I'm sure there are a few tricks we could probably throw in," she smiled suggestively.

As she walked by him and took his hand, he answered, "I guess the vampire-pirate costume was a hit."


End file.
